


Wartime Friends

by SadistPrince



Category: The Long Walk - Richard Bachman
Genre: F/M, M/M, Vietnam War, War AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadistPrince/pseuds/SadistPrince
Summary: The hundred join the Navy and are off on their way to fight in the Vietnam War.Thanks to Ashmer and Kishi for helping me with the title!





	1. Chapter 1

He stood in the sleeping quarters and found himself asking if prison wouldn’t have been preferable. Sure he was free but he’d be spending god knew how long sleeping on a thin mattress sandwiched between two different beds. The space between his bed and the one above him wasn’t even enough for him to fully extend his arm. 

“Maybe we should sleep with our helmets on.” A voice behind him noted and Garraty nodded. 

“Definitely going to whack my gourd a few times.” He said and turned to see who he was talking to. It was a boy who was a couple inches taller than him, his name tag read ‘McVries’ but it felt wrong to bypass introductions. 

“Garraty.” He held out his hand before amending his statement “Uh. Ray Garraty, that is.” 

“Peter McVries but you can call me Pete.” Garraty watched Pete’s scar shift as he gave him a lopsided smile and shook his hand. Garatty wasn’t sure if Pete looked like a Pete with his olive complexion Garraty half expected an Italian name like Marco or some other name ending with an O. 

“So wh-” McVries was saying when the ship jostled and threw him off balance, there was something impressive about seeing an awesomely fit guy like McVries falling and catching himself on an upper bunk. Garraty himself grabbed the railing of his bunk without much thought. 

Pete let out a shaky laugh that turned genuine in seconds, “They say tall guys take the longest to find their sea legs.” That slanted smile was back in its place and Garraty wondered if it was McVries’ default expression…if default expressions were a thing anyway. He imagined that every photo ever taken of McVries since childhood up to his recruitment in the Navy showed that same crooked smile and without realizing it he’d smiled back. The moment, if it counted as a moment, was cut short as more boys hobbled into the quarters making any movement virtually impossible without elbowing someone else. 

“I call top bunk!” someone barked though beds were assigned based on number. 

“Short shits like you should get middle or bottom bunk.” Another voice barked back and this time Ray could see who was talking. It was a blond boy, taller than Ray, while their blue crackerjack uniforms hid their figures Ray could easily imagine this boy having an athletic body. 

Soon after that the crowd of boys jostled around just right for Garraty to see who the tall blond was talking to, and yeah the boy was short coming in at five foot eight…maybe less. “Shut up you son of a bitch!” the short guy ordered thumbing his nose defiantly which didn’t detract from his weasel like appearance which was impressive in a messed up sort of way. 

The tall blond grabbed for the short dudes brown hair as if he was going to use it to wrangle him, it was the sort of gesture Garraty had seen men use on their wives to ‘put them in their place’ and it made Garraty wonder if the blond did that to women and what it meant to do that to a fellow sailor. He mentally kicked himself for his thoughts and watched as the short brown haired boy dodged, the speed in which he dodged was the sort of speed someone only acquired through years of practice in a movement, the sort of mindless reflex of ticks and quirks. While he’d dodged the grab he bumped into another boy, somehow even shorter than weasel face, who fell backward into the stairs leading to the deck. The boy yelped and his head whacked into one of the metal steps and Ray wondered if he’d split his skull. With sick fascination he looked for blood but the boy got up, rubbed his hand through his brown hair and skulked off towards the bunk nearest him. A bottom bunk that seemed to become his natural habitat, Ray thought the short boy would be stuck with that bunk whether it was or wasn’t assigned to him. A tall boy who looked like a moose ambled towards the small kid, probably to see if he was alright.

“Quite the bunch.” A voice he hadn’t heard before appraised like a sommelier for sailors. It was a different blond boy, one who’d pushed his way past Ray and Pete to snag a top bunk. 

“Name’s Olson. Hank Olson.” The boy offered with a confident smile, Ray thought Hank was one of those guys who spent nights practicing how to be charming in front of a mirror.

“Ray Garraty.” He introduced though he was distracted by more people pushing their way into the quarters. 

“Peter McVries.” He heard Pete say, he thought Pete sounded just as distracted as him and Ray could hear Pete quietly counting. He assumed he was counting how many of them there were and eventually his counting subsided into an impressed whistle. 

“One hundred.” Pete said and made his way to Ray’s side. “One hundred teenagers crammed into a sardine can.” Ray watched Pete shake his head in disbelief, his dark hair falling out of place and into his eyes.

Ray looked around at his crewmates, they all seemed so different and yet they all wore identical box shaped navy uniforms. All different and yet the same. “A sardine can,” he repeated Pete’s words “Is probably what this place will smell like in a week.” He joked and Olson laughed from the top bunk he claimed.


	2. You are about to enter another dimension

Turns out that the bed assignments were pointless. Boys began trading items and cash to score better beds shortly after the fall but Garraty decided to stick with the one he was assigned. Sure he would have preferred to sleep on an upper bunk because they actually had enough headspace to sit on but he thought it only made sense to let the taller boys have them. Garraty guessed he wasn’t alone in his way of thinking since most of the boys didn’t barter too hard with the taller sailors. The moose of a fellow simply asked a boy if he’d trade bunks with him and the boy yielded it free of charge. 

Garraty absently looked to see where McVries was bunked, his bed was a middle one just like Garraty’s but it was kitty cornered to his. For a second he watched McVries stack his clothes in the storage that was under the mattress before he did the same. No one bothered Garraty for his bunk and eventually the trading died down aside from the yappy weasel faced boy who was adamant that he should get a top bunk. While the short boy was going around trying to start up a barter Garraty saw his name tag, Barkovitch. He chuckled, Barkovitch, the guy whose voice sounded like a dog barking. Not a big dog mind you, a small dog. The type of small dog that barks as lowly as it can to mask its’ small size and be intimidating. His name made perfect sense to Garraty. 

Barkovitch’s bed was a bottom bunk in the left back corner. 

Garraty was glad he hadn’t traded his bed…though it felt wrong to refer to such a thin mattress as a bed and he figured that no matter how you diced it or where your bed was the next few months would suck. Keeping his bed meant that he unpacked his few belongings quickly and had enough time to socialize. He spotted the blond that had given barking Barkovitch a hard time, his name was Parker. Parker caught his eye and a hint of a sneer pulled at the corner of his lips “Want a picture?” his voice was cold and stern with a slight accent that Garraty couldn’t place. Maybe New York? 

“No.” he answered lamely, he wanted to crack back but nothing came to mind. 

“Who’d want a picture of you?” Olson laughed from his bunk, he was packing his clothes which were rolled into a messy ball. It made him think of cinnamon rolls, how the layers of dough and spice would be rolled together before being cut. 

Parker seemed to relax and contemplate what to do next, Garraty didn’t doubt that if he’d met Parker on the street he would have decked him and Olson in two seconds. “Pack your shit and shut up.” The blond ordered and went back to his own unpacking but Garraty felt like he couldn’t leave the exchange like that. 

“My name’s Ray.” He figured Parker was smart enough to read his name tag. 

“Do you think I care?” he asked but his voice lacked it’s edge and trailed off before he said, “ ‘m Collie Parker.” 

Olson introduced himself then silence fell between them as Olson and Parker unpacked their things. Ray looked around and read what name tags he could, the moose of a fellow was named Scramm, he was bunked above McVries. A boy who was a couple inches shorter than Ray himself walked to the bunk underneath his own, his tag read ‘Stebbins.’ He watched Stebbins lift the mattress; the hinges protested in a discourteous medley of screeches. Stebbins movements seemed slow and deliberate as if he was impersonating a mime unpacking a knapsack instead of actually doing it himself. Stebbins had to crouch to put his clothes away and Garraty studied his head, his blond hair was a bit long by military standards and his hair swirled counterclockwise. Ray heard that the swirl direction corresponded with handedness and he wondered which hand was Stebbins dominant one. He would have studied his bunkmate longer, if only to figure out which hand he preferred but they were all called above deck and told to bring their hats. 

The boat hadn’t left port yet but the waters were being choppy so keeping their balance while lined up to meet the admiral was a slight challenge. Ray had heard about the admiral, he seemed like a mythological figure born out of rampant patriotism. He imagined the admiral as some hybrid of Bobby Hull and Uncle Sam. He was told the admiral was tough, could take on anyone, and was living proof that this war was going to end in victory. He was also told that the man had a dog that he’d trained to tear throats out at his command, the breed of dog never seemed to be the same though. Some said it was a Doberman, others a Rottweiler, and further still some said it wasn’t a dog and was actually a wolf. The admiral was so amazing that he’d tamed and trained a wolf and brought it everywhere with him. He was told that if he pissed him off at any point he’d be dead within a week. The admiral was a boogey man and a blessing. The admiral was like god and that made Ray laugh, he imagined praying to the admiral before going to sleep.

The admiral was late. Or at least by Garraty’s watch he was though he didn’t complain. He studied the ship and his fellow sailors, he figured they were all in their late teens. Not even old enough to drink and they were standing on the deck of a warship, the thought struck him as bizarre and he felt like he was living in an episode of the Twilight Zone. The ship was large and had three gun turrets which Garraty knew was where he and his fellow sailors would spend most of the war. He imagined how hot it’d be inside the turret with everyone loading the shells, how stuffy and unbreathable the air would become and they’d still have to rush to fix the shells to be shot. With or without breath they couldn’t slow down, not in combat at least. 

A minute later Garraty was saluting the admiral, they all were, like a proper sailor even though he didn’t feel like one. The admiral signaled them to relax which they did and he spotted the infamous throat tearing dog, it looked more like a sheep and he began singing ‘The admiral had a little lamb’ in his mind. 

“I’m not going to give a speech.” his voice sliced through Garraty’s thoughts “I congratulate you boys on completing your training and I acknowledge the valor of the fallen.” somehow his orders left Ray feeling empty and the silence of his fellow sailors engulfed him as he watched the admiral signal for a clipboard. “As I call your name please step forward and receive your second tag.” The list was alphabetical and the boys began to chat amongst themselves and Garraty found himself standing next to McVries. 

“Off to war we go.” Pete said with a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Yeah. Off to war.” He agreed his own voice betraying his solemn thoughts before Olson joined them. 

“We’re in the military now.” Olson said with a sense of pride that was hard to compute. “The Admiral told me to give them hell.” The wispy blond adjusted his hat slanting it sideways with a practiced smile.

“Pretty good.” McVries said and winked at Ray who didn’t grasp what he meant and didn’t intend to ask. 

He looked back at his watch, nearly thirty minutes had passed in what seemed like seconds and the Admiral headed towards the helicopter. Some of the boys headed back down to the bunks but Ray headed toward the railing and looked at the port. They’d be setting sail soon and he realized this may be the last time he saw Maine and he thought back to his mother who’d tried to talk him into going to Canada. 

“It wouldn’t be a long drive Ray.” She had told him in her whispering conspiratorial voice the night before he headed to the base for training. “Please Ray, we can go now there’s still time.” But he’d told her no. He had enlisted and he wasn’t going to back out at the last second. 

“Going to jump?” A voice, one he didn’t recognize, asked behind him and he turned to see who was talking. “You could probably swim back to the base if you jumped now.” It was Stebbins, his counter clockwise swirl was hidden under his uniform hat and Ray had the irrational urge to knock it off his head. “Though they wouldn’t welcome you back.” There was a veiled threat to his words that left Ray feeling like he’d swallowed a bucket of ice. “I’m not going to jump.” He didn’t hide the defensive edge to his voice and he decided he didn’t like Stebbins.


End file.
